Pas de Deux
by badomens
Summary: Yuri didn't like the look that blond was giving him and he wasn't going to put up with it this time. If this guy wanted a fight, Yuri would put him on the mat. Flynn X Yuri.Modern AU.
1. ACT I

Author's Notes: A few weeks ago at a convention I devised the plot to this in about an hour. I'm not going to spoil anything here in the author's notes though. Please enjoy, :D

Tales of Vesperia is the property of Namco Bandai. Dracula is the property of Bram Stoker.

* * *

It was a rare day when his feet didn't ache. People often complained about how hard the hustle and bustle of their day-to-day lives and jobs was on their feet and joints. They didn't know the pain that he knew. More than a few times, he had removed his shoes to find his feet bruised and bloodied. After the first time, and considering the amount of effort he put into his work, he was no longer surprised. The injuries were tolerable and were marks of his dedication and hard work. He couldn't deny their meaning, even if it later made jogging on the treadmill at the gym a taxing experience. Like everything else, he powered through the pain and prayed his feet wouldn't go numb or get strained. He couldn't afford a serious injury.

Yuri slowed the treadmill as he reached his final five minutes. He was breathing hard and he needed to bring his heart rate and breathing back to normal before he moved on to the boxing area to where he could work the rest of his body. The cool down session caused the normal hot ache in his legs that told him that his hard work was paying off.

As soon as the timer reached zero and displayed the results of his vigorous run, he grabbed his gym bag and water bottle and padded down the hall to a large room where there was a boxing ring and a pair hefty sandbags hanging from the ceiling for practice purposes.

Yuri had hoped that he would have the room to himself, as his schedule allowed him to be in the gym when few other people were, but it was not so today. One of the sandbags was in use, but Yuri didn't mind, especially when the company looked as good as this guy did.

He was about the same height as Yuri, but had a stockier build. His blond hair was short and closely cropped to his ears, void of any styling so that it ended up just being a mess of spikes. He had a light tan and a few faint freckles, and his sky blue eyes were bright and focused on the sandbag before him. As Yuri moved around him to another hanging practice bag, he was happy to discover that the back looked as good as the front.

The blond groaned and grunted, his gloved fists hitting the sandbag almost endlessly. Rather than be distracted further by the handsome stranger, Yuri dropped his gym bag and strapped on his gloves. His own assault on the practice dummy started a moment later with a deep breath to focus his concentration.

The focus was instantly there, on the center of the sandbag that he was pummeling, and everything else around him faded out. Time disappeared and all that remained was his opponent and the sound of his fist against it. But zoning out had its problems.

"Ow! Hey, watch it."

His focus broke and he dropped his fists, to find that a hard right hook had thrown his target into the blond's path, and probably hit him. The bag swung backward and he braced it to a stop with one hand. "Sorry about that. I don't pay much attention when I get in the zone, you know?"

The blond regarded him with a look that Yuri had seen many times before. It was doubtful and judgmental. He saw it more often than he liked.

"I won't let it happen again." Yuri turned and narrowed his focus once more, but not so narrow that he couldn't see the blond watching him. He started his assault once more, crouching slightly and swinging to hit the bag over and over again. The blond went back to his focus as well, and after a moment, his bag swung in Yuri's direction.

Yuri luckily saw it coming. He punched it back harder, standing up straight, and stopped his own bag once more. If he hadn't been on his toes and the bag had managed to hit him, it could have caused an injury that Yuri couldn't afford to get. Anger flashed in his veins, and he turned it against the other man. "Are you trying to start something?"

The blond was still giving him with that look. "I wanted to see if you could hit it."

"What the fuck do you take me for?"

"Someone who shouldn't be near the ring. Scrawny."

"Look here, you stupid fuck. Don't start shit with me."

"Why not?"

He couldn't figure out what got this blond all up in arms all of a sudden, but he didn't care. If he wanted a fight, Yuri would give him one hell of a fight. "Fine. Do you want to take me in the ring? I'm all for it." He couldn't afford a serious injury, but a few bruises would hardly hinder his work.

"You think you could take me in a fight?" The blond clenched his gloved fists, and took a deep breath. "I don't have time to waste on the likes of you."

Oh, those were fighting words as much as everything else had been, but for now, Yuri begrudgingly let it go.

He had no qualms though about taking his frustrations out of the punching bag for the remainder of his time at the gym. Another fifteen minutes of endless punching got his arms burning and his aggression out without further problems from his angry neighbor. As soon as he was finished, he hit the shower for a quick rinse and left the gym.

The coffee shop across the street was a regular place for him, and he placed his order with the waitress and pulled a rolled up stack of papers out of his bag to look over while he waited for his cappuccino. He stretched and looked up briefly to see a familiar face approaching quickly from the gym. It was the blond who he nearly had to put in his place. His aggression had already ebbed and he wasn't in the mood to be picking fights right now.

The blond man stopped at his table and sort of stared at him for a moment. Yuri pretended not to notice, but when he didn't leave, he spoke up. "What? I thought you didn't have time to waste."

"I... I came to apologize for being an ass. I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you by buying you a coffee."

That was a surprising twist. Here Yuri had been expecting a street brawl, but the blond's anger seemed to have diminished as well. Why he bothered to pursue Yuri further though when he could have just let the situation go and never seen him again was intriguing.

"Sure. Why not?" Yuri motioned for him to sit down in the wrought iron chair across from him. "Name's Yuri. Yuri Lowell."

"Flynn Scifo." They shook hands and he took a seat. When the waitress returned he ordered a cup of plain black coffee. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"Don't worry about it." The fact that he bothered to come apologize was enough for Yuri. "So I've never seen you around before. Did you just move here?"

"Yeah. I just got a transfer. I'm still getting used to this city. What about you?"

"I've lived here for a few years now. It's not so bad once you get used to it."

Their coffees arrived a moment later and Yuri took a long sip before Flynn asked another question.

"So what do you do for a living?"

"Nothing special." It wasn't really the truth, but when Yuri told people what the truth was, there was often disbelief and shock. He long ago learned to not bother telling people and then no one would have to be surprised. "What about you?"

"I'm a minor league hockey player." Not what Yuri expected when he asked, but if nothing else, that explained the build of his muscles and his temper.

The city of Zaphias's minor league team wasn't very well known or well regarded, but they were only a minor league team and one couldn't expect the same of them as they did the major leaguers. They weren't major leaguers for a reason.

"Well, since you're new in town, I don't mind showing you around a little when you've got some time." Yuri pulled out a pen and scrawled his cell phone number on a napkin. He felt himself a pretty good judge of character, and overall the demeanor of this blond had been one of someone who could be trusted, even if he was a little hot under the collar sometimes. This could be fun. He handed the napkin to Flynn and then finished off his cappuccino. "I'm busy tonight and tomorrow, but give me a call if you want to meet up sometime."

Yuri knew full well how these meets up usually went and he didn't mind at all. The faint flush of red in Flynn's cheeks told Yuri that he knew as well. A casual fling every now and then satisfied Yuri's needs and he wouldn't mind at all a brief tryst with this firebrand blond. And if he was able to help Flynn get a little more accustomed to living in the city of Zaphias along the way, so be it.

"T-thanks." Flynn pocketed the napkin and took an unsteady sip of his coffee. If Yuri's sudden advance had been unwarranted, Flynn certainly didn't show it.

"It's been nice meeting you, but I have to get going." Yuri stood and threw his papers back in his bag.

"Likewise."

"Give me a call sometime if you're free." He turned to leave and shot one last look over his shoulder and saw Flynn sink a little into his seat. With a smirk, he headed to work. He had a long night ahead of him.

* * *

The exchange he had between the gym and the coffee shop had been strange and completely unexpected. At first, it had nearly ended in a fistfight, and then he went to apologize, and suddenly he was being hit on by the very attractive man who had been there for the whole ordeal. Flynn couldn't complain about the way it ended at all.

Even still, he was discontented by the amount of stress on him right now. He had just moved. His transfer had him trying to feel out his new teammates, which was always awkward, and moving to a big city all alone wasn't helping. He knew only one person here and although he had known her for most of his life, it didn't ease the weariness that came with being alone. She had a career as a rising star and had so little time that she could spend with him. He couldn't get in her way. She was living her dream. If only living his own was so easy.

"I'm sorry. Did you wait long?" The girl he was waiting for arrived.

Estelle was a young woman of medium height with bright pink hair and brighter green eyes. She moved with grace and purpose. He supposed that her occupation was a key factor in that.

"Oh, not at all." He quickly moved the cup where Yuri had been sitting away so that she could sit there.

"Was someone else here?"

"Yes, but he's gone now. Don't worry about it too much."

"Does that mean that you've made a friend?" The tone of her voice was much too excited about that.

"We're hardly acquaintances. We met at the gym and decided to have coffee together."

She smiled anyway and when the waitress came to top off Flynn's coffee, she ordered a hot tea. "How have you been? Did you get unpacked okay?"

"I've been fine. All of my unpacking is done and my furniture arrived yesterday."

"We should really have a house warming party for you."

Something that was much easier said than done when he didn't have anybody he knew in this town. "That's quite all right. No need to bother."

"Are you sure?" She frowned a little, but perked back up after a moment. "Are you busy this evening?"

"No."

"I would love it if you could come see our troupe's performance." She pulled a neatly folded flyer out of her purse and showed it to him.

It was a picture of her in a long, thin and poofy dress, poised gracefully on a stage underneath a bright spotlight. It read 'Introducing Halure Dance Troupe's newest prima ballerina, Estelle S. Heurassein as Mina Harker in Bram Stoker's _Dracula_.'

"I know that ballet isn't really your cup of tea," she giggled a little as the waitress set down her tea, "But it would mean a lot to me if you would be there."

Ballet was Estelle's passion. She had trained since she was a little girl, and if this was her first show as a rising star, there was no way he could deny her the chance to have some family there to witness what would no doubt be her triumphant debut as prima ballerina.

"Of course I'll be there." Her enthusiasm made him smile, and gave him the slightest glimmer of hope about his own dreams while she was living hers. If he worked as hard as she did, surely he could become a great hockey player and even go on to play in the major leagues. He just had to train and work harder to achieve that goal. It was the whole purpose of coming to this city, even if he felt stunted at the start. He just needed some motivation, and seeing her with all the motivation in the world, surely some of it would rub off on him.

"Great! Thank you." She pulled a ticket out of her purse and slid it across the surface of the glass table to him. "The doors open at six thirty and the show starts at seven. I hope that you'll enjoy it."

"I'm sure I will."

* * *

He was dressed nicely and there at the appointed time. The ticket Estelle gave him put him in the front row of the theater with the family members of other dancers, where they all had the perfect view of the stage. The three seats beside him remained empty even as the rest of the theater filled with people.

The curtains were down, but he could hear people bustling about across the back of the stage, moving props, stretching, getting the sets ready, getting the music prepared.

Finally, the first layer of red velvet drapes drew back and the troupe's madam, an older, but still lithe looking woman stepped forward with a microphone. She took a deep breath and looked out across the audience as the theater lights dimmed. "Welcome to Halure Dance Troupe's production of Bram Stoker's _Dracula_. This will be presented in three acts as listed in your program. Please hold your applause until the finale, and enjoy our show." She plied in a bow as gracefully as she must have in her younger days and swept off the stage.

As soon as she departed, the second layer of curtains were drawn up and away, revealing a group of dancers, one female, and three male: Lucy and her suitors. Lucy sat on a swing, and the males attended to her as if their lives depended on her, their dances around her as if baby ducks at their mother. Each movement showed how they pined for her attention, but her focus was elsewhere. Their love was not enough, and with a coy smile off stage, Lucy leapt off the swing, and did a graceful, twirling, dance en pointe before the audience.

He came in a flash of black, whirling around her like a violent cyclone, and her flower-like grace was easily caught up in his dance. He moved against her, his own movements strong and fluid. His cape hid his face from the audience as he danced, feet moving to the rising, heated tempo of the orchestra music. Flashes of his form could be seen as he moved all around her, like a predator against his prey and suddenly it stopped. His cape flared out away from him, revealing a long, leggy, lean form full of poise and untold strength. Her expression became a contorted mix of agony and ecstasy as he laid his pale face against her neck.

Flynn knew that face, and was astonished by its presence here. He had to physically stop himself from calling out in surprise the name of the person who that face belonged to, but that didn't stop him from mentally screaming. What was Yuri doing here, and playing the part of Dracula no less?

The music imitated the cry of a wounded animal, and she crumpled to the stage. With one arm, he lifted her, drawing her back into him like a snake. He furled the cape around her and suddenly she was on her feet again, stronger than ever. Her steps more confident as he withdrew from her and fled off stage and let her instead begin a frenzy of a dance with her three young suitors. Even with her apparent strength, she collapsed at the end and was rushed away by the suitors.

The curtains dropped for but a moment before opening again to a scene of a pair of young lovers, one of which was Estelle as Mina, and the other was her fiancée Jonathan Harker. They bowed, and Mina began her dance first. It was soft and the motions smooth and full of the training that she had done for years. She plied and stood en pointe to spin. The man rose and caught her by the waist, and they moved together into a warm and tender pas de deux, which was broken suddenly by the appearance of two older men, Dr. Seward and Dr. Van Hellsing, who rushed in from off stage. Their steps of urgency were carried over by Estelle, who was seen to dash off stage.

She returned a moment later with the first young woman, who now appeared sickly and weak. Without words, the assembled cast seemed to talk, in steps and motions of concern and frustration, and as the waning young woman drifted into sleep, the curtains closed once more, marking the end of the first act.

Act two started only a few moments later, with the scene of a party where the cast stood assembled accompanied by light and calm music. Even Lucy was there, apparently back to health. A long, thin scarf remained wrapped around her neck, hiding the bite marks left by Dracula in the previous act.

He appeared almost as suddenly as he had in the first act, like darkness and flame, and the cast was no less surprised by the suddenness of his appearance as the audience was. An audience gasp echoed through the watching masses. Mina moved to greet him, heart and steps full of kindness in spite of the strangeness of the guest. Dracula bowed to her, a dark smile across his face, and presented himself to the assembled. He came off as pleasant and worldly, and the cast seemed to enjoy his presence, save one Dr. Van Hellsing. He watched Dracula with a keen and knowing eye, not fooled by his handsome appearance. Mina, however, was enraptured.

Flynn was also, although his attachment was one of much more surprise. As much as he enjoyed watching Estelle dance, his eyes were almost always on Yuri, who showed such strength and grace in his dance. Even as act two melted away and act three began, Flynn barely took notice. The pas de deux between Mina and Dracula was even more passionate that it had been between Lucy and Dracula. She was more innocent, more vulnerable, and that made the fire of his darkness burn ever hotter. The hunt for him was on, and she was the prey he truly desired. A dark lone wolf, and an innocent fawn before him, it was a dance of fire and passion and power. She was completely under his spell and he was prepared to sate himself on her innocent blood, but was stopped. The appearance of Jonathan and Dr. Van Hellsing marked his end with the light of the sun, and Dracula crumpled in his throes of death.

With Mina free from his dark spell, the ballet ended in one last pas de deux between Mina and Jonathan, and a standing ovation erupted through the audience. Even Flynn was compelled to stand and give his gratitude for the exceptional performance as the cast all returned to the stage and bowed before them.

As soon as it was over, and most of the audience left, Estelle found him, still dressed in her costume from the finale.

"Flynn, I'm so glad you could make it!" Her happiness turned to worry. "Are you all right? You look dreadfully pale."

"I'm fine." He tried to put a smile on over his shock. "You did wonderfully. I'm so proud." He hugged her, half out of the familial bond they shared, half to hide what he was having so much difficulty processing.

"Thank you," she said as a slight blush reddened her cheeks. "Won't you come to the after show gala with me?"

"I'm sorry. I really need to be getting home. I have practice early tomorrow, but you have fun and good luck with tomorrow's show."

"All right. Maybe next time then. Good night."

Confused and feeling as strange as he ever had before, Flynn left the theater behind for someplace where he knew what was going on.

* * *

After a hard night's work, the gym was the one place Yuri went, although it wasn't because he was concerned about staying in shape. It was because it allowed him to relax and refresh after everything else. He let the other dancers have their fill of partying. An evening alone with a sandbag was much more his style.

He had been pounding away for a while, nearly half an hour, and his arms ached for it. His feet weren't in much better shape, but that never surprised him. He took a brief break from his assault and a few moments to catch his breath. A long sip of cold water quenched his parched throat, and a little more on his face and down the back of his neck washed away a bit of the sweat that had been clinging to him since the start of his performance.

He heard the door of the boxing room open, but paid it little mind. There were other people who used the facilities this late at night after leaving their nine to five jobs or as a means to get away from their kids. But this wasn't one of those people.

"You didn't tell me you were a ballerina."

Yuri spun on his heel to face Flynn. "I'm not a _ballerina_. I'm a ballet dancer. And does it matter?"

Flynn sputtered, stuck somewhere between anger and embarrassment. From the look of the gym bag in his hand, he had just happened to show up when Yuri was here. Some timing.

"It wouldn't have changed the outcome of the fight we didn't have anyway. Ballet dancer or not, I still would have kicked your ass." This time, Yuri was baiting him into a fight. He knew that's what Flynn wanted. He wasn't sure if it was because Flynn felt like his masculinity was threatened by backing down from a fight with a guy who happened to be a ballet dancer, or what, but Yuri was certainly ready to put a stop to it.

"Like hell you would!"

"My occupation may require that I wear tights, but don't think that I couldn't still own you on the mat."

"Let's see you try." Flynn had sheer muscle on his side, and a temper to boot, but that didn't mean it would be easy for him. It was plain that he was underestimating Yuri because of his choice of profession, and that just wasn't something Yuri backed down from.

Yuri dropped his water bottle and tightened the straps on his gloves. "All right. Let's go then." He stepped through the corded boundaries and into the boxing ring. He taunted Flynn with a wild smirk and a motion of his fist.

Flynn climbed in after him, pulling on his gloves as he did. He stretched quickly while Yuri waited for him, shadow boxing a little to loosen up his own taunt muscles. As soon as he was ready, he made it plain with a fighting stance, and Yuri didn't wait for him to signal further.

He lunged, swinging fast and hard, each punch focused but fluid, and Flynn responded with strength but less speed. His stockier build made him less agile and more likely to take a hit to risk getting one in. Yuri didn't give him much of a chance to use this, moving back and out of Flynn's reach as soon as a blow landed. He continued for a few seconds, each hit causing Flynn to get more and more enraged, until he gave up his wait-and-strike defense and charged, fists prepared to make a hard left or right hook as soon as Yuri was within range.

This is where his agility and speed as a dancer came in. He kept dodging, moving out of the way as soon as he was within reach, and coiling back to strike when Flynn was trying to recover. He missed a step in his rhythm and Flynn was on him in a flash, pummeling him for a few hits before he was able to get away. He didn't begrudge him getting his hits in. He was glad that this wasn't going to be /too/ one-sided, but after almost a minute of fighting, Yuri was ready to end this.

Flynn paused for a breath, for just the barest second. He wasn't a struggling as much as Yuri expected, but was taking this in stride. His temper was still getting the better of him and Yuri used that to his advantage. He charged for a series of steps, feigning a right hook and when Flynn moved left to dodge him, he switched his weight to the left and countered with a solid blow to Flynn's face.

The impact sent the blond to the floor, and Yuri was left standing over him, panting.

"Not too bad, Blondie." He reached down to help him up.

Flynn looked at his hand a little warily, but Yuri's defenses were down and open. The fight was over and they both knew it. He took the hand extended to him, and scramble to his feet. "You're pretty good."

"Thanks." Yuri pulled him forward by the hand he still held and pressed his lips against Flynn's.

The blond jolted back, surprised but not angry, his face growing very red very quickly.

"Offer still stands if you're up for it."

Flynn wiped his mouth absently, looking at Yuri from the corner of his eyes. The tension between them had to be plain even to him. Yuri was certain that he hadn't read him wrong. He broke the silence finally with an easy tone to his voice. It was a confidence that surprised him a bit. "Sure."

"Your place or mine?"

* * *

They made it to the door of Flynn's apartment, but only barely. He fumbled with the key to let them in, swearing as it stuck in the lock, but thankful that all of his unpacking was done and that the bed had arrived only the day before. They stumbled in, and he locked the door as quickly as his shaking fingers could manage between tugging at Yuri's clothing and pulling his face back for further, hot, sweet kisses.

"Nice place you've got here," Yuri panted, pulling back long enough to get a quick look around.

"I'll give you the tour later." Flynn's place wasn't huge or terribly impressive, but it was nice enough.

He shed his coat, and tangled his hands in Yuri's hair as the dark haired man was trying to get his coat off as well. The whole time, they kept moving across the floor of the apartment, until they reached the door of Flynn's bedroom at the end of the short hall. He withdrew his hand from the belt of Yuri's pants just long enough to throw the door open, and maneuver them to the bed.

Yuri kissed him deeply, his mouth almost too hot for Flynn to handle and his tongue as graceful as the rest of his body. He pulled back for a breath, teasing Flynn, and dove back in, moving one of his hands up Flynn's shirt and across his abdomen. Yuri pushed him onto the bed, which sunk beneath him a little, and straddled him.

Flynn fought with him open mouthed, moaning a little as Yuri's hands pulled more of his shirt up, exposing his skin further. He tugged harder on the end of Yuri's belt, fighting with the buckle that was giving him so much trouble. He finally undid it with a click, and clawed to get Yuri's shirt off. Yuri obliged, pulling back from the kiss just long enough to pull the fabric off, and then Flynn's before continuing the fierce, fiery, and wonderful kisses.

He ran his hands up that long, pale, slender form, feeling muscles in each of his movements that, although lean, were strong. Flynn let his fingers tangle in and pull a little at Yuri's long, very silky hair. He groaned slightly as Yuri's knee slid between his legs against his growing heat and felt Yuri smirk into the kiss. Flynn grabbed the waistband of Yuri's pants, ready to expose more hot, white skin, and further sate his desire.

Yuri wriggled out of them deftly, letting them drop on the floor beside the bed. He pinned Flynn down on top of the bed, and knelt over him, planting hot, wet kisses down his chest and abdomen. He wasted no time with the buckle on Flynn's belt and removed the whole thing with a snap.

Flynn had been with a few lovers, but no one like this. He was bold and brazen and moved with confidence and speed, and Flynn liked that. He was also aggressive, and while Flynn wasn't used to that, he didn't mind at all.

His pants joined Yuri's on the floor after a moment, and finally there was nothing separating them.

Yuri straddled him, hips pressed against his, just as hard as he was. He ground against Flynn, tremors of moans that sounded like a symphony erupting from his pale throat. He hadn't noticed before how lovely Yuri's voice was until it was this hot and making these sounds that were driving Flynn mad. He wanted to hear more, he wanted to touch more, he wanted all of Yuri, so much that were would be nothing separating them.

When the sensation of their hips together became almost too much to stand, Yuri pulled back, panting softly and knelt between Flynn's legs.

"We're missing a few things here."

Flynn sat up a little, having been too caught up in the moment to even think about the preparations an act like this required. He was in luck once more. From the drawer of his nightstand, he pulled a pack of condoms and bottle of lube.

Yuri leaned over, kissing him again, a sensation that was maddening, and took the pack and bottle. He pulled away smirking. "I hope you don't mind me topping."

That quelled the lust surging in Flynn's brain very briefly. "Wait. What?"

"Is it that big a deal?"

It wasn't that Flynn had never bottomed. It just wasn't something he was used to, and it wasn't something that he expected from Yuri, but after being floored on the mat, he really should have. The idea of someone so slender and graceful pounding him into the mattress seemed strange. "Not really."

"Good." Yuri ripped open the foil package with his teeth and spat it on the floor after retrieving the condom. He took just a few seconds to roll it on snugly before turning his attention back to Flynn. "I do have a performance tomorrow. Can't have my back and hips hurting."

He poured some of the lube out onto his fingers and smeared it around before lowering his hand to Flynn's entrance. His slid in the first finger and Flynn stretched and squirmed a little as he moved it. He moaned a little under his breath, which was a sound that Yuri seemed to relish, and he moved his finger a little harder and added the second. He bucked slightly against them, the noises coming from his mouth getting a little louder. Right at the peak of a moan, Yuri pressed in his third finger, causing Flynn to gasp and moan further.

"Ready?"

"Yeah."

He groaned a little as the fingers left him and were replaced by the heat of Yuri against him.

Yuri leaned over him, hands planted in the comforter on either side of Flynn. His dark hair fell around them in a curtain, blocking out the lights that shone in the window. He kissed Flynn again, deepening it after a moment, but pulling back just as he entered Flynn slowly until he was all the way inside him.

Flynn arched, leaning back into the pillow, fingers digging into the bed as he adjusted to a feeling he had not known in a while. The heat and length inside of him had always taken some getting used to, and this was no different. After a few deep breaths, his body eased and allowed Yuri to keep going.

He thrust into him, a little slow at first to set the pace, listening to Flynn. He was making noises he had never heard himself make as Yuri moved in him, a sensation that was hot and wonderful and overpowering. He was surprised at first how well the slender Yuri fit between his legs, but in this moment, he didn't care. The pleasure that was shooting through him, white hot like fire was all he cared about.

Yuri wasn't stingy with his movements. He allowed the pace to increase and the pressure of his force against Flynn, and Flynn made no argument against it. He would slow to tease him, and then speed up suddenly and then pull back just as he felt he could handle no more and was ready for release. For many long, wonderful moments, he teased Flynn like this and didn't get a single complaint out of him. Not that Flynn could do much in the way of talking with all the moaning he was doing. All he knew was that this was amazing and that his body wanted more. Yuri seemed to have no problem fulfilling that urge and satisfying his body's overwhelming desire. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than the movements of Yuri inside him, of his hot, wet, hungry mouth against Flynn's, of his everything and his all.

Flynn held back from ecstasy as long as he could, but with what Yuri was doing to him, there was no hope in staving it off forever. Yuri pressed into him hard one last time, and Flynn's heat exploded and he was left panting and shaking and satisfied. Yuri pulled out and finished against him a moment and a hot, aching groan later.

Their kisses cooled and breathing calmed. He hoped that Yuri felt as good as he had. He would have liked to return the favor as soon as possible, but they were both spent, and with an upcoming performance, showing Yuri just as a good time was simply out of the question.

Between the kisses and the touches, Flynn felt himself drift away into sleep as Yuri mumbled something about staying the night and hunkered down beside him. He nodded a reply to a question that he wasn't even sure was a question and let sleep take him.

All in all, living in a new city wasn't off to a bad start. He could get used to this, and hoped that he had the chance to.

END Act I


	2. ACT II

Author's Notes: So yeah. Yuri's a ballet dancer. Keep in mind that I did take some liberties with the ballet for _Dracula_. Thank you for reading.

Tales of Vesperia is the property of Namco Bandai.

* * *

Being on the ice with a stick in his hand was the most thrilling thing in his life. Racing to the puck, slicing a path through his opponents and gliding across the smooth surface as fast as he could was invigorating. No amount of anything else could get his heart racing the way hockey did, even if afterward his bruised and often bloodied body hated him for it. He didn't mind. The marks left behind were trophies of his hard work and dedication.

Hockey was a brutal sport, a battlefield. For all the padding and protection they wore, Flynn had seen numerous players leave the ice bleeding. When his heart was in it, no amount of risk mattered. Today was one of those days where he gave the game his all.

He wondered if this was how Yuri and Estelle felt when they were on stage. While Yuri had never professed his love for dance the way Estelle had, Flynn could see it like a fire in his storm grey eyes whenever he danced. It gave Flynn a new appreciation for the art.

As much as he wanted to focus on Yuri once more, he put his head squarely back into the game. The Zaphias Knights were down ten points against the Nordopolica Gladiators. The 3rd quarter came to a close and the team was prepared to pull into overtime if necessary, but they still had time to take the lead.

The team captain, a man of towering proportions named LeBlanc, signaled for them to switch strategies, and Flynn and his teammates moved effortlessly into the formation that they had been practicing for weeks. The announcer was shouting over the intercom, but Flynn blocked out the noise and focused on the goal in front of him, protected by a huge, heavily padded goalie. His defenses were imperfect. Flynn could make the shot, given the puck, but one of his teammates had it. He could have to run interference.

He slid in to one of the opposing team, who was quickly closing in on the puck, and slammed him against the Plexiglas partition that separated the audience from the brutality of the ice. They cheered for him, for the violence. He pulled back and dodged another opponent. He had to keep them off the puck. They needed this goal.

The buzzer rang, the light of the opposing goal flashing brilliant red. The announcer screamed for the goal, and on the scoreboard, they gained.

Like fire in their blood, that single goal drove them harder and faster. The buzzer sang out in a succession, a siren's song of victory for them. And then it was all over.

The cheer of the crowds and the cry of the buzzer rang in Flynn's ears over the warm congratulations of his team, and all the way through his shower. The cool water calmed the fire in his blood and cleaned the sweat and blood from his body.

When he returned to the locker room, it was abuzz with his teammates, chattering of their victory as they dressed for their lives off the ice.

"Great job out there, Flynn!" Hachette, another player about his own age, threw an arm around his shoulders. "Man, you really slammed that guy into the wall. I'm surprised he got up."

"What a bruiser!" Another said, pumping his fist in the air.

"It's been great having you on the team, Scifo," LeBlanc added in his voice that was always just a little too loud, but his praise was seldom heard and very welcome.

"I'm just going the best I can."

"This has to be our best team yet." The others continued as he discarded his towel and dressed in the clean set of clothes that was hanging in his locker.

"If we keep this up, we might make it to the state finals."

"Hell! I'm thinking we should just aim for the nationals!"

Their enthusiasm rubbed off on him, and he was glad. He had been worried about joining a new team, but for right now, for once in his life, everything seemed to be going right. He had a pretty nice apartment in a pretty nice neighborhood. He had a steady paycheck and a job that he loved. He had family nearby. And then, there was Yuri.

Yuri was something else entirely. Cool and calm normally, a fiery passion burned just under his skin when he performed and he was good. He had been something of a constant in Flynn's life these past few weeks and Flynn was glad. He enjoyed the company in more ways than one.

The team left the locker room and parted ways at the entrance. Yuri was waiting there, a broad smirk across his face. Flynn hadn't been expecting him, but it was a pleasant surprise.

"Whoa, Flynn, who's that?" one teammate asked. "Looks like he's waiting for you."

"Oh, he's just a friend of mine." He held back the smile that tugged at his lips. He hadn't come out to his teammates yet. He was waiting for a better time, after the shock of his transfer and the period of getting used to things wore off. He hoped for positive reactions when that day came, but he had been on the receiving end of quite a few negative ones and wasn't putting too much faith in it.

"Alright, man." He got another pat on the back.

"See you guys at practice tomorrow."

"Yeah. We've gotta work hard so we can cream those guys from Dahngrest next week."

He watched as the team left him and Yuri behind, and he breathed a little sigh of relief.

"Good game." Yuri moved to walk beside him, his hands shoved in the pockets of his black hoodie.

"You were watching?"

"Why not? You've seen me perform. Thought I'd at least return the favor."

At this point, Flynn had been to several performances by the Halure Dance Troupe, both to cheer on Estelle and to watch Yuri. It would be a lie to say that ballet hadn't become something of a guilty pleasure for him. He regrettably had missed the final performance of Giselle for his game, but he had been lucky enough to catch the opening show.

"How about some dinner? My treat to celebrate your win."

"Sounds great." Even better when his stomach rumbled loudly. "Where are we going?"

"There's a great little pizza place around the corner. I know the guy who owns it. I figure if you're going to be living in this city, you might as well learn where to eat."

They walked out of the municipal ice rink and a few blocks down the street. They rounded a corner and after a leisurely ten minute walk, they came upon a little hole in the wall pizza shop with a grimy neon sign that ready 'Tolbyccia Pizza and Subs'. It was unimpressive outside, but as soon as they stepped in, it was very different. The walls were covered in framed pictures and news clippings of events throughout the city spanning back what looked like nearly fifty years. Stories of volunteer firefighters and monuments erected to honor those who'd worked hard to make the town what it is.

A few tables sat in the middle of the restaurant, which was lined with booths. The place was packed even at this time of night, full of people talking over one another and over the tinny old jukebox that played from the back. Behind a counter on the side was an open kitchen where a massive man with long white hair and a matching beard was flipping long, thin stretches of dough into the air. He looked their way as the bell tied to the door rang, signaling their entrance.

"Hey!" He called out to them, dropping the dough he was working onto the counter.

"Hey, Don!" Yuri called back.

The man waved them to the counter and Yuri obeyed, dodging a couple of rambunctious kids as they weaved through the crowd of customers. Yuri put both elbows on the counter and leaned forward.

"What's on the menu tonight, Old Man?"

"Anything ya want, lad."

"What do you want on your pizza?" Yuri posed the question so suddenly that it surprised Flynn.

"Uh, whatever's fine."

"Give me one with the works."

"You got it, kid." The man moved back to working to dough, but his attention was on Yuri and Flynn. "So who's yer friend here?"

"This is Flynn. He's the newest player for the Knights."

"Ah, so this is him." Don dropped the dough onto a worn and scorched pan and molded it around the edges. He ladled out some tomato sauce and started to pile the pizza with toppings and cheese. "I heard the Knights finally won one fer a change."

"Y-Yes,sir."

"Keep up the good work!" He threw the pan in the brick oven behind him and had a hearty laugh of it. "Now ya two get a table. Harry'll bring it out when it's ready."

"Thanks!" Yuri spun and wove back through the crowd to a small booth in the far corner near the front window. He sat with his back to the window and Flynn plopped down across from him.

"Who was that?"

"That's Don Whitehorse. He's had this pizza place open for as long as I can remember. He really takes an interest in what's going on in his town." The tone of Yuri's voice, sharp and dark, made it sound like the huge pizza chef was some sort of mafia boss. "He's a good guy, though. He's proud of this town and its people, so I figured he'd have taken an interest in you pretty quickly."

"I see."

"Not to mention that he makes the best pie in town."

It made Flynn smile a little as he glanced over the photos and news articles dotting the brick walls. Even if Yuri hadn't told him, he could see that this was a man who took a lot of pride in his work and in his town. He hadn't expected that in a town this size, with its massive population and endless streets, but something about it made him feel at home.

Between the two members of the wait staff, one a scruffy middle aged man who seemed to regard Yuri fondly and the other a stiff blond young man who barely said a word, they received a couple of pints of beer and some bread sticks.

"Congratulations on your first victory." Yuri raised his beer high with a smile and as soon as Flynn tapped his glass against it, Yuri threw back his head and chugged it down.

A moment later, the young waiter returned with pitcher of beer and a bubbling hot pizza. Yuri dug in hungrily, and Flynn followed a little bashfully a second later. It only took a few bites for Flynn to know that Yuri wasn't kidding about Don's ability when it came to making pizza. This was the best he had ever had in probably his whole life. It was so good, in fact, that he inhaled two slices before he had even noticed. He awkwardly looked over to Yuri, who was leisurely munching his second slice with a look that was unconcerned considering the rate at which Flynn had devoured the food.

"Pretty good, huh?"

"Yeah." He swallowed a gulp of his own beer. "So I've been meaning to ask. How did the reviews for _Giselle_ come back?"

"The critics loved Estelle, as always. She's not prima ballerina for nothing."

"What about you?"

"Hm?"

"What did they say about your performance?"

"Oh." He chuckled a little. "The male dancer's performance is often unimportant. You see, for the most part, the purpose of the male is as a prop, a pedestal, upon which the ballerina offers herself up before the audience. It was Estelle's show and not mine."

For some reason, that answer put him ill at ease. It may have been the humor in Yuri's voice, or the coldness it disguised. Who wouldn't want recognition for their hard work? Especially when they worked as hard as he had seen Yuri do.

"If it means anything, I thought you did great."

"Thanks."

"So, do you know what the next show is going to be?"

"It looks like right now it's going to be _Carmen_. We start rehearsals next week."

Flynn leaned back in his seat, stretching, and let out a contented sigh. "Oh, it's been a while since I've had a meal like that. Sort of miss it."

"There's something special about home cooking. You know, I'm a pretty decent cook myself. I'll make something for you sometime."

"How about breakfast?"

Yuri understood the implication of that phrase, and as soon as the check was paid, they were off to Flynn's place.

* * *

Yuri had to admit, hanging out with this blond had been _fun_. For three weeks, he had enjoyed a casual relationship with Flynn, and three weeks of some of the best sex of his life. They were on much more friendly terms now than they had been at the onset. That one fistfight and the evening that followed seemed to clear the air pretty quickly, even if they did still occasionally butt heads.

Yuri was surprised when he regularly showed up at the ballet performances, but Flynn revealed that his cousin was the prima ballerina Estelle. That quickly squashed any silly notions that he might have been there to see _Yuri_. Flynn said it himself. They were just friends, after all.

He had become quite familiar with Flynn's apartment. It was impeccably clean, if a little barren. The kitchen was largely unused, but most of his familiarity was with the bedroom. He knew the smell of Flynn's comforter, his shampoo, and had gone home more than once with those smells lingering on him. Tonight would be no different, and he was pretty okay with that idea.

Flynn pressed him into the mattress, settling his weight on top of him as he tugged at Yuri's shirt. His lips were occupied with Yuri's neck, a part of the body he seemed particularly fixated with, and his kisses there were a mix between gentleness and bites. Yuri constantly found himself the morning after their trysts covered in bites and bruises, but he didn't mind. He caught Flynn's lips as he pulled back for a breath and to get his own shirt out of the way, and kissed him hungrily. The pizza they shared had satisfied his hunger, but hardly all of his needs.

The grind of their hips together reminded Yuri how uncomfortably tight his pants had become. He moaned as Flynn's hands moved up his shirt and pulled up over his head. Flynn pulled his own shirt off and continued his path of kisses and bites down Yuri's bare chest. Thankfully, Flynn didn't wait too much longer before yanking off the last of their clothing and tossing it unceremoniously onto the floor.

The haze of kisses and caresses continued, their bodies pressed so close together that it was maddening. This was taking too long for Yuri's tastes. He clamped his legs against Flynn's waist and rolled over on top of him.

"Hey-"

He silenced Flynn's complaints with a hungry kiss and straddled his lap. Flynn moaned as their bodies met. Yuri liked that sound of Flynn. He found that he was able to get lots of interesting noises out of him. He continued the motion of his lower body against Flynn's, looping his arms around his neck. He let his hands wander across Flynn's broad shoulders and up into his hair moaning as the heat of their interactions fueled only further, harsher movements.

When the simple play of their hips was not enough, he reached down and took their heats in his hand. Flynn didn't complain. He only moaned louder, leaning back into the pillows, no doubt thoroughly enjoying the touch. This however lasted only a moment.

Flynn stopped the motion of his hand, having broken the trance of pleasure briefly. "I want more of you," he panted.

Yuri had no objection. He slid down further on the bed and sat on Flynn's calves to keep his legs from moving too much during what he would do next.

He leaned down, letting his hair drape across the low of Flynn's abdomen and his thighs. He licked the swollen head of Flynn's heat, getting a wonderful groan to rattle up Flynn's throat. "Yuri," came next, his voice thick with heat, lust, and a terrible yearning.

Yuri continued, taking it in a little further, parting his lips and humming just a little. Another trembling moan urged him onward. Flynn's fingernails scraped against his scalp, threading through his hair, trying not to let himself be taken by ecstasy. It was a fight he knew he was going to lose, but he still held on. He didn't tug or pull, although he could feel that urge in Flynn's fingers as Yuri displayed his experience and took his entirety in.

A wave of moans and choked utterances of his name praised his ability and compelled him to hum a little harder. Flynn wasn't able to handle this long and nearly pleaded with Yuri to stop. He wasn't ready for this to be done yet.

He gave Flynn a moment to recover as he returned to his lap and reached into the nightstand beside the bed where Flynn kept the things they needed to keep going. He pulled out the bottle of lube and a condom and got to work. He ripped open the foil wrapper and fitted the latex down Flynn's heat. He flipped open the bottle of lube, smearing its contents across his fingers, and tilted his hips up.

A little dumbstruck, Flynn watched as Yuri prepared himself, moaning slightly with the in and out motion of his fingers. He took his time, making a series of little noises that caused Flynn to squirm. He had figured out Flynn's kink pretty quickly, and had no qualms about using it against him. He moved a little more, bucking slightly, and letting his voice grow a little louder, making sure that Flynn got an eyeful of his show. Flynn was holding back, fingers firmly curled into the bed sheets to keep him from jumping in immediately. He licked his lips absently, eyes never leaving Yuri.

Yuri ended his little show before it drove either of them too far and he planted his knees against the bed. He lowered himself slowly onto Flynn's heat, moaning as he took it all in.

Flynn's hands left the bed, grasping Yuri's hips. Yuri rocked against him, enjoying the shiver of pleasure that shot through his body.

And then he moved, a sharp upward motion completed as he dropped back. Again and again he moved, the strength of well-trained thighs making his movement effortless and maddening as the waves of pleasure poured over him. He kept up the motion, increasing the speed. He leaned over Flynn, catching the headboard of the bed to use as a support.

As wonderful as this was, Flynn so readily aided him, taking Yuri into his hand and stroking him with a motion that was an echo of his own.

Yuri threw back his head, moaning so loudly that he heard his voice crack. Moans and the trembling cry of Flynn's name weren't enough to express how he was feeling. The pleasure that was quickly overwhelming him was blocking out all sense and his movements became ragged and clumsy. His grace as a dancer melted away and he was left fumbling and calling out and holding on for dear life.

The moment of ecstasy was only seconds away, a shred of time so hot and sweet, and it washed over him just as hard as if all time stopped. He crumpled into Flynn's lap, fingers still gripping the headboard for dear life, and his thighs aching.

Flynn caressed one his trembling thighs, propping himself up slightly with the other arm. Yuri pulled up a little, and leaned down to exchange weak kisses.

The first time Yuri had fallen asleep in Flynn's bed, it had been out of necessity. He had had a long day and had been worn out, so had Flynn. The warmth there now had become something that he was more comfortable with than he should have been. He was trying so hard not to set himself up for disappointment.

* * *

He woke to the scent of something cooking- something delicious. He made very little use of his kitchen and kept a minimal amount of any necessity in it because he simply didn't cook. He wasn't any good at it.

Flynn rolled out of bed and fished around on the floor for wherever he may have dropped their clothing. Yuri was already out of bed, but most of his clothing still littered the floor. Flynn finally grabbed the tee shirt he had worn the night before, only to squeeze into and find it was Yuri's. He switched it out for the black one that was actually his and pulled on his boxers before treading out into the common area of his apartment.

Yuri was standing at the stove, his hair swept up in a messy ponytail, wearing his own dark boxers and the oversized jersey that had been from Flynn's last team. It was much too big for him, but that's what made the whole scene cute. He treaded quietly and barefoot across the tile, and as soon as he was within range, he pressed himself gently up against Yuri, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in the crook of Yuri's neck.

"Morning," Yuri said.

He replied in a light-hearted grumble, "I'm hungry."

"Breakfast is almost done." Yuri lifted the pan of eggs just slightly off the stove to show him.

"Food's not what I want." He pressed in a little harder, pushing Yuri against the oven. He placed a few open mouthed kisses on Yuri's already hickey covered neck.

He elbowed Flynn harshly in the ribs, sending him a step back with an 'oof'. "After breakfast. If you're good."

Flynn got the hint and instead of pursuing the issue further, set the table and made a pot of coffee. By the time the coffee was finished, so was breakfast and they sat down to eggs, bacon, and pancakes. It was good to have a home cooked meal for the first time in weeks. It was also nice waking up to breakfast and some pleasant company. He could get used to this.

About halfway through their meal, there came a knock at the door. Flynn dropped his fork mid bite in surprise and Yuri looked at him over his coffee. He hadn't been expecting anybody at this time in the morning, or at all, but he still got up.

"Just a moment," he called as he padded back into the bedroom to get a pair of pants on. The ones off the floor would have to do; he just made sure that they were actually his. He tugged them on as he walked, managing the buckle of the belt as he made it to the door.

He opened the door to find Estelle standing there, smiling brightly. "Good morning!"

"Oh, morning." He was a little puzzled by her appearance here. He hadn't been expecting her, but he also supposed that it wasn't out of character for her to drop in to check on him.

"I'm sorry to drop in so suddenly. I was just wondering if you wanted to go grab some breakfast."

"Actually, I-" How was he going to explain this to her?

"There's enough for three," Yuri said loud enough for them both to hear.

Flynn turned away from the door, incidentally giving Estelle a full view of Yuri sitting in Flynn's old jersey at the small dinette. He hadn't bothered to retrieve his own pants.

"Yuri?"

"Morning."

She went quiet for a moment as the realization came to her. "Oh, I'm sorry. Maybe we can do lunch then if the two of you are busy."

"It's fine. I've made plenty of food." He even got up from eating his own to fix her a plate.

"Are you sure?" she asked tentatively as she shifted her sight over to Flynn.

"I guess." It was too late to keep this a secret. All in all, she seemed to be taking this pretty well.

Flynn moved aside to let her in, and thankfully, Yuri had padded back into the bedroom, returning a few moments later as Estelle sat down to eat, dressed in his clothing from the night before. He sat back down after setting down her plate, and went back to eating. There was a strange, awkward silence hanging over them, that Estelle finally broke.

"Thank you for breakfast, Yuri."

"No problem."

"Um, I didn't know that you knew each other." The tone of her voice wasn't upset, but was laced with surprise. Flynn supposed that surprise was the least terrible response to finding the scene that she had. He had had much worse before.

"We met at the gym," Flynn said. His stomach was no longer interested in the meal before him. What may have been a good reaction now could quickly sour.

"So are you dating?" She sounded hopeful.

"Nah. We're just sleeping together," Yuri replied before he could, and finished off his cup of coffee.

Flynn passed a hand down his face in frustration. Yuri had no sense of tact when dealing with things like this apparently. Estelle looked at him again, her surprise growing, but she was trying to smile. He couldn't tell if she was merely trying to mask anger in front of her coworker.

The silence hung there again, nearly unbearable, only interrupted by the brief scrape of forks and knives across cheap flatware.

"So it's good to see you making friends, Flynn." She was trying. She was trying so hard to take this well.

"Yeah..."

Yuri stood abruptly, his chair skidding hard again the tile floor as it was pushed back by the momentum. Their eyes went directly to him as he dropped his plate and cup by the sink and disappeared back into the bedroom.

Before Flynn and Estelle even had a moment to have a word between themselves, he returned, his black hoodie, and and the chain of his wallet hanging from his belt. He pulled on his socks and shoes, which had been left by the door along with his keys. His hand was on the knob before Flynn even realized that he was leaving.

"Wait, Yuri-"

"I've got practice." He didn't turn to look at them. Something was wrong. The fact that he wasn't even looking at them told Flynn that much. "I'll see you later."

The door snapped shut quickly and Yuri was gone. Flynn wasn't sure what went wrong, but it had gone spectacularly wrong.

Estelle touched his arm, a sensation that caused him to flinch. She clamped down firmly, but gently. "Do you want to talk about this?"

Better now than never since she already knew this much.

He nodded. "I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?" She pushed her chair away from the table and moved it so that her attention was squarely on him. "You can't help how your heart feels, right?"

It wasn't so much his heart as the rest of his biological impulses.

"It's okay, Flynn. I think I know how you feel." She leaned forward and embraced him tightly, pulling back after a moment. "Just remember that I love you no matter what."

"Thanks." This was going much better than he expected, or than he experienced.

"I never expected you and Yuri would be dating though. You two are so different."

"We're not actually dating, though." Yuri's blunt answer had been the truth. At best they were friends, but he supposed friends actually knew things about each other and had hobbies or interests in common. They were really much closer to what Flynn was sort of reluctant to admit. They were fuck buddies.

"Oh. Well as long as you're happy, then that's what matters."

Why weren't they dating? He liked Yuri well enough, and while he really enjoyed the things they got up to in bed, he liked just as much when they were just together. Wasn't it normal to want something deeper? Did Flynn want something more from their relationship? Did _Yuri_? It was something that he needed to know, and he was intent on asking now.

ACT II END


	3. Act III (Finale)

Author's Notes: Sorry that I've been dragging my feet about posting this last act. There is a scene in here _heavily_ influenced by a scene from Reiko Shimizu's _Moon Child_ (vol.10). If you've had the pleasure of reading _Moon Child_, you'll recognize it. I really couldn't pass up having Yuri do that to Flynn.

* * *

_"You don't want to date me."_

That was the response Flynn got every time he asked. There was never any hesitation or wavering on the subject. That's all Yuri would say about it, and he never explained why. This morning had been no different.

Their evening activities still continued as if things were no different, but Flynn _felt_ differently now than he had before. He now had more of an appreciation for Yuri's body and his movements than he had for the simple feel of him. What had been initially lust was something stranger, something stronger now. It made him feel weak in the knees and made his mouth terribly dry. He had an inkling of what it was, but Yuri didn't seem interested in letting him find out if he was right.

It was so frustrating that even now while they were together at the gym working out, Yuri was acting like nothing had changed at all between them during the past few weeks. Things had definitely changed, whether or not he wanted to admit it. Flynn's talk with Estelle had gotten the ball rolling on Flynn actually seeing those changes. It had been a sudden and eye opening event.

He tried to stay focused on the display on his treadmill. It was hard when Yuri was right beside him, jogging along as he always did. His hair bounced as he moved, and his head bobbed slightly as he moved in time to the music that was coming through his headphones. He was focused. He was always focused. If it wasn't on training, it was on dancing, or cooking, or sex, or _something_. He seemed always sound in his path. He never seemed to question anything. He knew what he was doing and he did it.

The gears of Flynn's treadmill ground to a stop as his time ran out without him even noticing. Yuri's stopped a moment later and he hopped off with a stretch in his step. Next they would move into the boxing room as had become their habit.

"Yo, Flynn!" A voice called from behind them, and they both turned. It was Hachette and the rest of Flynn's teammates clad in gym gear and carrying boxing gloves. This was not the first time they had shown up here after learning that this is where Flynn trained.

"Hello."

"Up for a match?"

"Sure, I..." Flynn turned to look at Yuri, who had since turned away, his towel draped over his shoulders. "Yuri?"

"I'll see you." He grabbed his water bottle and gym bag and disappeared into the shower room. This was not the first time he had left abruptly after Flynn's team showed up. In fact, he left _every time_. Flynn questioned it at first, but when Yuri offered up no explanation, he stopped asking. He knew he wasn't going to get an answer from the stubborn dancer.

"What's with your friend?" LeBlanc asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"He's got to get to work," was the only lie that Flynn could come up with. It seemed to satisfy them.

The group of them moved into the boxing room, Flynn lagging behind slightly. Why wasn't this working? Was he doing something wrong? He kept wondering that all the way through the remainder of his workout, straight through hockey practice, and on the way home.

He was hungry and antsy. As he traversed the darkened streets of the city of Zaphias, a place he was quickly starting to enjoy living in, he came upon Tolbyccia Pizza, the first place where he had had anything close to a home cooked meal. In that moment, nothing sounded better than a pizza with the works.

Flynn wasn't sure what he walked into when he entered the pizzeria, but he didn't like the sound of things. Don was in the open kitchen, his hands that had previously always been busy with the tools of his trade were instead balled into firm fists on the counter. He was loud, upset about something, and Yuri was standing there at the counter, being subjected to whatever the topic of conversation was.

"I'm warnin' ya. Stay away from that man. Maybe what he says sounds nice, but I guarantee that he's up ta no good. He means to seduce ya away from where ya belong."

"Take it easy. I haven't agreed to anything yet," Yuri replied, waving his hand dismissively.

"I'm serious, lad. That man is bad news."

"Can I get my pie?"

Don turned, grumbling gruffly as he went back to work.

Flynn took that lull in the conversation as an opportunity to approach the counter and lean up against it a few feet away from Yuri. "I didn't think I'd see you here."

Yuri turned, a brief flash of surprise across his face that melted into his usual smirk. "And why not when I can get the best pizza in town?"

"Flattery won't get ya no where. Yer still on my shit list."

"So what are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd get some dinner. What are you getting?"

"The works. What about you?"

"The same. Why don't we eat together back at my place?" He was hoping to get to talk to Yuri. He was hoping that he could at least get the reason why Yuri refused to date him out of him. Surely, this wasn't a lost cause. Even if Yuri didn't share the feelings that were burgeoning within Flynn, he just wanted a clear answer.

"Sounds good to me."

As soon as the pizza was out of the oven and paid for, they were off back to Flynn's apartment. They ate in near silence. It was unnerving how quiet his apartment was even with the two of them in it.

Yuri stood and stretched, a graceful motion that often sent Flynn's blood racing and his body aching. A few steps took him away from the dinette table and into the living room. He paced for a moment, humming to himself. This was something Flynn had never witnessed him do before. He seemed nervous, almost agitated. For a moment, it was a back and forth, around in a circle, watching his feet and moving his arms slightly.

"Are you okay?"

Flynn simple question broke Yuri out of his concentration and his head snapped over to look at Flynn.

"Oh. I'm just going over the steps for this piece of Carmen."

"Would you show me?"

Yuri face went a shade paler than it already was and he pushed a long black lock of hair out of his eyes. "It's complicated. It requires a partner."

"Oh, it's a duet then?"

He suppressed a laugh, and sighed slightly. "Not exactly. A pas de deux, move for two dancers, usually has both in motion. Jose's dance is different. Instead of dancing together, Jose dances around Carmen. It's the dance of a man who has sacrificed everything for the woman he loves, and whom he eventually kills in a fit of passion."

"So you need someone to dance around?"

"Yeah."

Flynn stood and moved within Yuri's path. "What do I need to do?"

"You? Oh, no. That is not happening."

"Why?"

"You're not a dancer. You have no training."

"But you'll be the one dancing."

Yuri sighed again and rubbed his forehead, still pacing. After a half a dozen steps, he stopped, folding his arms across his chest. "Fine. Stand right there and _don't move_."

Flynn did as he was told and stood in the middle of the living room, hands at his sides. Yuri took a deep breath, shaking his arms to loosen up before dropping his phone on the table and pressing a button. A song began to play and he strode up to Flynn. His eyes were bright with fire, so similar to what Flynn saw whenever he performed.

He raised his arms above his head, his feet together. He pressed close to Flynn, one arm high as the other wrapped around Flynn. Yuri slid around him, the undulating of his arms, the constant motions distracting as hell. He wanted to follow Yuri's movements, but he didn't dare move and break Yuri's concentration. This was the first time he had gotten a private showing.

Yuri's eyes were always fixed on him, even as he dipped low, and jutted upward to him, his face only inches away. His movements were smooth, graceful, and unhesitating, like a bird dancing to impress its mate. Closer and closer, he drew, his motions becoming more rapid, almost frenzied as he circled Flynn. Reaching in, reaching up, nearly touching but keeping his fingers only inches away from Flynn's skin. He was nearly on his knees, nearly begging.

It stopped abruptly, the music and the motion, with Yuri on his knees in front of Flynn, his eyes closed for the first time, and his hands splayed over his ears. His face was wracked with pain, taut with anguish, and Flynn couldn't understand why. Was it simply the dance, or something more?

Either way, Flynn was very suddenly turned on. The intimacy of the dance, the fire of Yuri's stare, the sway of his body drove Flynn's mind crazy.

Yuri stood after several long seconds, and Flynn caught him by the hand.

"I think you've got it."

Yuri's face reddened a few shades as he jolted back slightly, surprised by Flynn's sudden reaction.

He pulled Yuri forward, pressing their lips together. He waited only a second to deepen the kiss, clasping Yuri tightly against himself. Yuri moaned a tiny bit, but it was enough to put Flynn's nerves on edge. He kissed him again, hungrier than before, but slower. He wanted Yuri. He wanted Yuri _badly_, but he waited for something of a reply.

Yuri replied to his hunger in kind, and they stumbled into the bedroom.

Flynn wasted no time pulling away clothing as quickly as he could, exposing Yuri's flesh to his wandering hands and hungry mouth. Each little moan and noise and squirm only urged him on. He wriggled out of his own clothing with a little help and as soon as they were bare, he slowed significantly. He needn't rush this.

He let his hands wander across the expanse of Yuri's skin. He hadn't noticed before how soft it was, or how lovely he looked with his hair splayed out beneath him, lying underneath Flynn with a slight flush still to his face. His voice was sweet and heady with each moan and sigh. He responded so warmly to each of Flynn's touches.

Flynn traced a long, winding path of kisses down Yuri's chest and abdomen, his hands moving further down to caress his thighs. He wanted every inch of skin to quiver beneath his touch, beneath his lips. For a long time, all he did was kiss and touch, listening to the tiny sounds Yuri made, feeling the touch of Yuri's fingers on his own body. He tried to move things on, to keep the act in motion, but Flynn wouldn't let him. He wanted this to be slow. Their numerous times before this seemed like a frenzy, like it only lasted moments and he didn't want that. He wanted this to last as long as possible, even though his own body was growing impatient with him.

He moved down, looping his arms underneath Yuri to cradle his hips. He teased gently and slowly Yuri's swollen heat with teeth and tongue, listening carefully to the sharp gasp and the heated moan that followed. With that encouragement, Flynn kept it up, taking Yuri slowly into his mouth. Yuri tried to buck up against him, overwhelmed by the warm and wet touch, but Flynn held his hips down tightly.

Back and forth he moved with his lips and tongue, savoring each of Yuri's moans. He stifled each, holding back, digging his fingers into Flynn's shoulders, trying so hard to control himself. Flynn increased the pressure, hoping that he would just let go and enjoy it. He wanted Yuri to stop holding back.

"Flynn..." Yuri's voice sounded so needy, so hungry. Flynn was doing something right. He didn't intend to stop but Yuri's voice uttered out again, almost desperate. "Stop."

He did immediately, pulling back to look at him and place a few more kisses on the low of Yuri's hips. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah." He took Flynn by the shoulders and pulled him up into a kiss. "Don't keep me waiting forever."

Flynn took that as his sign to continue, and fished out the necessary preparations. With slow, gentle motions he got Yuri ready. He took his time, watching Yuri squirm, creeping toward ecstasy with just Flynn's fingers. Flynn was a little ashamed to admit that he _liked_ seeing Yuri like this.

He pulled his hand away as soon as Yuri signaled that he was ready. Flynn entered slow and gentle, feeling Yuri stretch beneath him to accommodate him. He leaned back, head pressed into the pillows, fingers curled tight into their softness. He clamped his legs around Flynn's waist and eased rather quickly. He never seemed to have a tough time of this. After just a moment, he was ready to continue, and Flynn didn't disappoint. The rock of his hips against Yuri was slow but strong.

As the motion grew a little sharper upward against him, Yuri curled up, looping his arms around Flynn's neck. The rough scrape of Yuri's fingernails over the skin of his back and shoulders sent a shiver of pleasure and anticipation up Flynn's spine. He moaned into their kiss and then pulled back to watch Yuri enjoy himself.

The quiver of sweat-slick flesh, the clouded look in those half lidded charcoal eyes, the beautiful sounds coming out of Yuri's mouth all urged Flynn onward, but he kept it slow. Flynn wanted to make Yuri feel the same hot and sweet sensation that Yuri made him feel. He wanted to show Yuri that he was serious. He wanted more than causal sex from their relationship. He wanted to be more than friends with benefits.

With all the fire and passion between them, Flynn couldn't figure out why Yuri kept saying 'You don't want to date me.' He never said 'No' or 'I'm not interested in anything long term.' It was always the same thing, but Flynn knew it was a denial. But he couldn't figure out _why_. Maybe Yuri's own interests were just for a casual relationship. Maybe he didn't want anything more, but if that was the case, why didn't he just say so?

Slowly, he edged Yuri to ecstasy, his endlessly gentle moments unwavering in strength, still kissing and caressing and tangling his hands in Yuri's hair. Even as he could see Yuri getting frustrated with him for taking the journey in inches rather than the leaps and bounds like they were used to, he didn't give in. This was taxing on him, too, but he endured. As long as Yuri was enjoying it, there was no reason to rush.

Finally, Yuri's grip on him tightened. He had learned intimately over the past several weeks what that meant. He was close. He was so close that he was completely losing himself. Yuri's fingers raked across his back again, breaking skin and drawing blood. He cried out loud one last time arching against Flynn in all the right ways, his body shuddering and straining in ecstasy.

Yuri flopped back onto the bed, panting, little moans still escaping his lips. He ran a shivering hand absently through his hair, pushing it out of his face as Flynn covered in him in kisses and finished against him.

There was barely a breath between Yuri's finish and recovery from ecstasy and the question that Flynn posed to him once again. "Please date me."

Yuri wasted no time either. "You don't want to date me."

"Why do you keep saying that? I honestly do."

The look Yuri gave him was searing. "You really don't get it at all, do you?" He pushed him away and rolled off the bed. He picked his clothing up off the floor, pulling the pieces on as he went.

"Yuri, wait-"

He didn't. As soon as he was dressed, he was out of the room and the front door slammed behind him. He was left alone for the first night in a long time, and it was quiet and unnerving. Flynn wanted answers, he wanted to follow, but he didn't.

* * *

In spite of their strange falling out a few nights before, Flynn still attended the opening show of _Carmen_, and sat in one of the seats that Estelle reserved for him. The other seat that was hers to reserve was also occupied this time, which was unusual.

The girl who sat there was short, with choppy brown hair and teal eyes. She ignored him completely, and everyone else for that matter, for the contents of a book. On the other side of him, in the two seats that were always empty, was a tall man with slate colored hair, who was dressed sharply. It was strange to see anybody sitting in those seats. They were Yuri's reserved seats, and, in all the performances that Flynn had attended, there had never been anybody there.

The man was talking on his cell phone, jabbering in another language with the person on the other end. Who was he and why was he was in Yuri's reserved seat?

Finally, he snapped his phone shut and slid it into the breast pocket of his coat. His eyes scanned the crowd, but as soon as the first curtain drew back, he was fixed like a hunter on the stage.

The ballet of _Carmen_ was announced and the second layer of curtains furled back, revealing a stage lit in red lights and decorated with tall, wooden pillars. Estelle as Carmen bounded out first and slid into the dance. Confident and sultry, she moved across the stage. She was putting on a display beneath the hot light that bathed the stage and herself in red. After a moment of this display, she disappeared off stage. Her disappearance was quickly followed by the appearance of a male dancer that Flynn didn't recognize, on the other side of the stage.

This dancer, playing the character of Zuniga, took steps that were stiff and militaristic, marching across the stage. Yuri as Jose appeared finally, dressed in a blue military jacket and stood at attention before his commanding officer. As the other dancer approached him, he moved in to follow the march. The two continued the stiff dance. Jose's steps almost mirrored those of his superior, marching and spinning across the stage.

As their dance concluded, Yuri was left on the side of the stage at attention, standing guard, and his commander left. A second later, Carmen was back with her ease and confidence, strutting around behind him. He largely ignored her, and she dipped back behind one of the pillars. She poked out to look at him, smiling, and then slid back. Her leg extended out in a bid for his attention. When that didn't work, she crept back onto the stage, making small clusters of dance on the far side of the stage, taunting and tempting, and slowly, his eyes went to her as she approached once more.

He took a step back as she neared him, regarding her cautiously. Her dance continued, and he tried to resist her charms. In the end, Carmen's grace and charisma won. Their separate dances blended into a pas de deux. Carmen pulled away with a mock kiss as it ended, and they parted ways. Three brightly dressed dancers took their place.

The commander returned before the dancers, dragging Carmen, and threw her at the returning Jose. When they were left alone immediately after, another pas de deux started. Jose was still resisting Carmen's blatant advances, but was once again won over. With Jose completely enraptured by her fiery beauty, she escaped capture.

Jose's dance alone was much different from his earlier dance. The stiffness was gone, a freedom there instead. But there was pain, too: The impassioned pain of a man who was in love.

The intermission pulled Flynn roughly back to reality as the curtain dropped. The man beside him reached for his cell phone once more, but stopped as he caught sight of Flynn.

"Oh, hullo." His smile was as sharp as the rest of him and instantly marked him as untrustworthy. "You must be a friend of the prima ballerina, ja?"

"Yes."

Out of the same breast pocket, the man pulled a business card and handed it to him. "Here is my card. My name is Yeager."

The card read his name and below, a profession along with a phone number and email address.

"You're-"

"A talent scout for the Dahngrest Ballet." His phone began to ring a second later. "Ah, excuse me." He flipped open his phone and went back to chatting.

The Dahngrest Ballet was the largest in the world, famous for their exceptionally talented dancers and their perfect and high budget performances. They were world-renowned. What was a talent scout for them doing here?

"I wish he would just shut up," the girl beside him grumbled.

"He is rather chatty."

"That's putting it mildly."

"I'm Flynn. Are you a friend of Estelle's?"

"Yeah, you could say that. Name's Rita. You must be her cousin then."

"That's right."

The intermission ended before they could continue the conversation, and Flynn's eyes were fixed once more on the stage. Escamillo, the bullfighter, came and did his dance on stage, flashy and proud, strutting like a peacock for Carmen. She danced with him briefly, impressed, but in the end, she pushed him away.

Jose returned to the stage, and almost instantly a battle ensued between him and Escamillo. He drove the bullfighter away, and turned his attentions Carmen.

Another dance erupted between them, movements like a pair of birds in a mating dance. It was a dance of passion, of longing. The fire between them grew even hotter, but she pushed him away, too, and stood in the middle of the stage, motionless and defiant.

That's when Jose's dance began, the same one that Flynn had witnessed a few nights before while Yuri was practicing. But this dance, embodying the pain of a man in love, was _different_. The movements were the same, the same pleading and anguish, the same steps, but something was strange. This what not what Yuri had shown him. The feeling was gone, and his steps were cold and blank.

No one else seemed to notice this, but Flynn wasn't paying attention to the rest of the audience. His eyes were transfixed on Yuri, and the rest of the ballet passed with barely the blink of an eye. In fact, he only realized that it had ended when Rita called to him. The rest of the audience had already gone.

"Hey, hurry up. You want to go meet up with Estelle, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry."

They headed out of the theater and down a hall to were the backstage door was, as well as the dressing rooms.

Yeager was there, talking to Yuri, who was still in his loose white shirt and black tights from the finale. They seemed cordial. Yeager shook hands with him and gave him a business card. After a few moments of chatting, Yuri broke off the conversation in favor of changing, and Yeager passed them without a word.

That's when it hit Flynn. No talent scout would come unless they had a reason, and the reason had been _Yuri_.

Panic rose hot in his throat, leaving a sliver of a metallic taste lingering on the back of his tongue. Yuri was leaving. He was going to move far away to be famous and he was going to leave Flynn behind. Flynn wasn't sure _why_ that scared him so much so suddenly, but it did. Yuri was one of the things he had really come to enjoy about living in the city. And he knew that his interest and feelings for Yuri extended far beyond a casual lay.

"I'm sorry that took so long." Estelle broke the strange silence that settled over them as she came out of one of the dressing rooms. She was wearing standard street clothing and smiling. "I'm so glad that you could both make it."

"I-It's nothing." Rita's face reddened a shade, and then five shades darker as Estelle slipped her hand into Rita's.

"How about we go get something for dinner? I'm starving."

"What about the opening party?"

"No one would notice if I skipped out," she chuckled. "Come on. It'll be fun. Let's wait for Yuri, too. I'm sure that he'd like to come along."

"I'm not hungry. You guys go on without me," Yuri said from the doorway of the other dressing room. His arms were folded across his chest and his eyes were occupied with the floor.

"Don't be a party pooper, Yuri!" She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him toward them.

He cracked a bit of the smile, crooked and half-hearted. "All right, all right. I'll go."

They left the theater for the bustle of the city at night and walked to Tolbyccia Pizza. Don congratulated them as they ordered and they sat down to a hot cheese pizza and a few cold drinks.

Flynn wanted to talk to Yuri, to ask him what was going on. He wanted to know if his suspicions were justified. Was Yuri planning on leaving the Halure Dance Troupe to work in the Dahngrest Ballet? Was he really going to leave them all behind? Was he really going to leave _Flynn_ behind? But his lips felt glued shut and he never got around to bringing it up. He hoped that after dinner, he could catch up with Yuri, but nothing panned out right. Yuri left first, disappearing in the dark streets, and Flynn was left to walk home alone in the end.

* * *

He was a little relieved when he found Yuri at the gym the next morning, but there was hardly a word said between them when Flynn still had so much that he wanted to say. Why had things suddenly become so terribly awkward and when had it started?

Yuri was pummeling the sandbag like he did every day, but this was different. His focus was so narrow that he didn't hear Flynn try to talk to him, and if he did, then he simply ignored him. He knew that Yuri could get in the zone and drown out anything else, but there was something distinctly different about this focus.

When Yuri paused to take a breath and start a second assault, Flynn tried to get his attention.

"Yuri, I-"

"Yo, Flynn!" A voice called from across the gym and drew their attention. It was Flynn's team again, headed by Hachette.

Yuri didn't even acknowledge him this time before making himself scarce. He didn't even bother to pack his gym bag before leaving. Hachette and his teammates were left staring at Flynn, faces wearing confusion and concern.

"Everything okay between you and Yuri?"

"Uh, what? Yeah. Everything's fine. Why?"

"Because I've never known him to be so cold."

"Wait. What?" Flynn was taken aback. "You mean, you _know_ Yuri?"

"Yeah. Didn't he tell you? We went to high school together," Hachette explained. "You two are _together_, right?"

"Uh-" A cold weight settled uneasily in his stomach. How did they know? He avoided their eyes.

"I mean, I'm just assuming, but I've known since high school that Yuri was gay. He just never made a big deal of it."

"So... you all _knew_?" He was waiting. For the boos, for the taunting, for the abuse. He knew it was coming. It was so readily given the first time. He just wished that they'd get it over with so that he could move on with his life. This was unbearable. This was not how be wanted his secret coming out.

"Well, yeah." Hachette said that like it was no problem at all, and Flynn felt his body subconsciously flinch backward.

Any time now.

"But that doesn't change the fact that you're one of the team," LeBlanc added, leaning against him with one huge arm.

"That's right!" Another teammate said from the back of the group.

"You're still one of us no matter who you like."

The coldness receded and the warmth filling up his chest was almost too much to bear. There was pure sincerity in their voices and their broad, friendly grins reassured him further that this was okay. He didn't need to hide and he didn't need to be ashamed. For the first time, he didn't feel that overbearing guilt of this secret weighing on him.

"Thanks," was all he could muster through holding back the well of emotion.

"No problem, man. You're one of us, after all."

"I guess that's why Yuri never stuck around," Hachette added.

"What do you mean?"

"He was probably worried about outing you."

Suddenly, everything made sense.

* * *

Even hours of practice did little to clear his head. Any dance he could think of, even those beyond his skill level, even the most basic, he used to block the burning in his brain. But nothing did any good. Covered in sweat, feet bruised and bloodied, Yuri headed home.

Yeager's offer was looking better and better. In the Dahngrest Ballet, his hard work and dedication would at least be a little better recognized than it was here in Zaphias. He didn't care about being famous. He just wanted a little recognition. Didn't everyone who ever worked hard at something they were passionate about? He would be able to travel the world and dance for all manner of people. And best of all, he wouldn't be _here_ anymore.

_Friends_.

He was so sick of that word. Sick of people who were ashamed to be seen with him. Sick of people who lied to others to hide him. Flynn wasn't the first and he wouldn't be the last. There would always be people who were like that, and he would always end up gravitating toward them. It was just the way it was.

Yuri had gotten too comfortable. He had let this go on too long and go too far. He had gotten too used to Flynn, to the warmth of his arms and his bed. But there was still more to it than that. Deep down, Yuri couldn't bring himself to endanger Flynn's career, his passion, just because Yuri might have wanted to be more than _friends_. It just wasn't right.

He had long ago come to terms with what he was. He didn't care anymore what people thought about his career and his sexuality. But he also knew that not everyone would come to it so easily as he had.

He had the key to his apartment out as he rounded out of the stairway, and he caught glimpse of something white and rectangular. It was an envelope, its corner stuck behind the number six that marked his door. On its front was his own name in Flynn's handwriting, handwriting much neater than it should have been for a hockey player. Yuri plucked it down with a sigh. At this point, he was tempted to just throw it away, regardless of its contents. Flynn just didn't get it.

Yuri threw the envelope onto his kitchen counter as he passed through into his living room. He flopped down on the sofa, half glad that it didn't smell like Flynn anymore. Once alone in his cold, empty apartment, Yeager's offer was even more tempting. The pros of going outweighed the cons significantly. It was a once in a lifetime chance.

He sighed again and struggled to get comfortable. After a half an hour of tossing and turning, he pulled himself off and paced back into the kitchen. The envelope was still waiting on the counter for him. He spent a long moment just staring at it, wondering what it was, why it was here, but it just lay there. When he couldn't stand it anymore, he ripped its flap and peeked at the contents.

There was a note inside, along with a ticket for a hockey game. The note was simple and concise. _Please come see me play tomorrow night._

For a long time, he just stared at the ticket and the note. It was too late now.

Yuri pulled his cell phone out of his hoodie pocket and dialed. He pressed the phone to his ear, listening impatiently as it rang. After just a moment, the other end of the line crackled to life.

"Guten tag, Yeager speaking."

"Yes. This is Yuri Lowell, with the Halure Dance Troupe. We spoke the other night."

"Oh, ja, the magnificent Jose from Carmen. I hafe bin eagerly expecting your call."

"I've made my decision."

* * *

Making it through to halftime was grueling. Right now, the Zaphias Knights were a little ahead, thirteen to eleven. They were struggling against their opponents, the Mantaic Brawlers, and Flynn felt like he was a big part of that struggle. He was feeling low. It was half way through the game and he had yet to see Yuri. Had his realizations been too late? Had Yuri already left without saying goodbye?

Flynn watched the clock as it ticked down to the time that his plan would be thrown into action, whether or not Yuri was there. If Yuri wasn't there, Flynn was, at the very least, setting himself up for a huge disappointment. But this is what it had come to, and all he could do was hope.

"Don't worry so much, man." Hachette pulled out his mouth guard, and lifted his facemask a bit. "See?" He pointed up into the bleachers.

He didn't want to look at first, but finally he did, scanning the crowd and found Yuri sitting there. Yuri's eyes were on the ice, although he looked less than enthusiastic. The weight on Flynn lifted a tiny bit. Even if his plan didn't work out, at least he was there. He would just have to make it through the game, and his confidence was renewed the tiniest bit.

He could do this. He couldn't afford to fail.

* * *

It wasn't that he disliked hockey. Yuri just wasn't a huge fan of sports. He tried to keep his interest in the game, mostly because Flynn had specifically invited him, but he honestly had little idea what was going on. A black puck was knocked into one goal or the other, but the violence that abbreviated these scorings seemed to be the true purpose. It was pretty barbaric, but in the sort of way that Yuri could get behind. It was pretty interesting at least as far as the violent aspect went.

But why had Flynn invited him?

Even without an answer, he kept watching and waiting. His decision was already made. Nothing Flynn could do at this point could change that. It was the right one. It was the one that was the best. He had to assure himself of that.

A hush fell over the crowd, and then a strange buzz that wasn't the cry for one of the teams or for violence. It was excitement, and suddenly, every eye in the bleachers, in the whole rink was on him.

Yuri looked up and around, everyone still watching him. It was much different than being on stage. This was sudden and uncomfortable. His face felt hot, and then even hotter as his eyes caught the monitor over the ice. In the pixilated LED screen was his own face. His eyes were locked on the screen, and thankfully after a moment, his picture faded out in a cheesy animated effect. The text that replaced it wasn't of much comfort.

'Will you date me, Yuri?'

He froze. This wasn't happening. Flynn hadn't done this, but this theory was proven wrong.

Flynn's hulking, padded form skidded out onto the ice, and he turned to look up at Yuri. He pulled off his facemask and helmet, tossing them to one of his teammates.

"I love you!"

The heat crept down his neck as the crowd cheered. Yuri couldn't tell if he was embarrassed or angry, but it sure felt like both. His legs wobbled as he urged them to stand. They never failed him. They weren't going to do it now just because of something like this. Words of retaliation were hot in his mouth, burning holes in his tongue, desperate to be spoken.

"Play your goddamn game!"

Flynn smiled. Yuri had grown too used to that smile. It was infuriating and lit up Flynn's whole face. He liked it too much.

Yuri ducked back down in his seat, pulling the hood of his coat over his head in a failed attempt to hide from the rest of the audience in the hockey rink. He folded his arms over his chest and hunkered down and was glad as soon as the buzzer signaled the start of the second half.

* * *

Not the response he had hoped for, but one he should have expected. The fact that Yuri even showed up, and that he hadn't left immediately right after Flynn's little stunt was enough for him.

Even without a proper answer from Yuri, without knowing how he felt, Flynn felt better. The weight on him was gone, and one way or another, everything was going to be okay. He got his head back in the game.

The buzzer called out again and again, ringing for their victory. When he was in the zone, the game just flew by. It felt like no opponent could touch them, like the puck gravitated to them, like the whole of the crowd was crying out for them to win. The score was no longer near even. He couldn't remember the last time the opposing team had gotten a goal in and he couldn't remember the last time that he felt so alive.

It was an overwhelming victory for the Zaphias Knights: thirty to eleven. He was sore when it was all over, but it had been worth it. The adrenaline pumping in his veins started to fade as he left the shower, still getting congratulations from his teammates. But it had been a group effort.

They left the locker room together, and waiting just outside was Yuri. His pale face was still flushed. He started toward Flynn as soon as he saw him, steps hurried and braced with anger.

The rest of his team took a step back, leaving Flynn to fend for himself.

"Yuri, I can-"

Yuri didn't let him finish. He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him forward, pressing their lips together in a move that surprised Flynn for its harsh and sudden nature, but he didn't mind.

He pulled back and Flynn felt a smile start to cross his face, when Yuri caught him by surprise again. Yuri's fist collided with his stomach, hitting a bruise left forming from the game, and knocked the wind out of him. With swiftness that he had forgotten, Yuri's arm was clamped around his neck, the opposite hand gripping Flynn's belt. He crouched at his knees and sprung up, pulling Flynn right off the ground, and putting him squarely on his back behind him.

While the blow from Yuri's suplex had him reeling, he could hear his teammates cheering. He looked up at Yuri, who hadn't moved, save to glare down at him.

Hachette said something about leaving the two of them alone, and with their departure, he would have to fend for himself again. Not that he was doing a very good job.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Yuri's voice was much calmer than Flynn anticipated.

"I'm being honest."

Yuri sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"I know about the talent scout. I... I don't want you to go. I mean, I won't stand in the way of your career, but I just-"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"What?"

"It wasn't worth it. I like living here. Besides, moving is a huge pain."

He felt that smile at the corner of his lips again, spreading fast and far until his cheeks nearly hurt.

"Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not staying because of you." His face went a shade darker.

"I love you."

"I heard you the first time. Either way, you better get up. I'm hungry."

Flynn stood, "Hungry?"

"You said you wanted to date me, right? Well, let's go on a date."

He couldn't smile any brighter than he already was.

Flynn was worried when he moved to this town. He had felt alone in a strange new city, interacting with people he had never met, but now he found that this concern had been unwarranted. The people he met and the things he had learned in several short weeks had made such a difference. He learned that the people who mattered cared about him. His career was looking promising. He wasn't alone anymore. He had Estelle. He had his teammates. He had Yuri. That was the best he could ever ask for.


End file.
